


The Feral Gentleman

by Charmed_Frostgiant



Category: Wolverine (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, M/M, Modern Era, Smut, Xavierine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmed_Frostgiant/pseuds/Charmed_Frostgiant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool drags Logan to a speed dating event on a whim. Logan is not amused but meets a charming telepath who wants to take him home for a night of fun. Logan assumes it'll be only one night and assumes that Charles feels the same way. It grows into fluff and romance from what was supposed to be a one-night stand. I write terrible summaries, honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feral Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Please let me know if something needs to be corrected. I don't own these characters and I'm not affiliated with Marvel. Enjoy!

Why he had let Wade talk him into this, he’d never know. Wade, or Deadpool as he insisted on being called, didn’t technically lie. He simply didn’t tell the complete truth. Bastard. Wade had always been a bastard and would always be a bastard but he was one of Logan’s oldest and closest friends despite their history throughout the years. That’s how James Logan Howlett, The Wolverine or whatever the fuck people wanted to call him ended up at a shitty little bar in New York City. This crappy dive was hosting something called speed dating for a little fee of twenty bucks with the promise of free drinks.

“Come on, Wolvie. We’re gonna go out and have fun. Maybe find some cute little dudes or dudettes and all the alcohol you can drink. My treat.” Logan grimaced at the black and red facemask and the way that Wade bounced on the balls of his feet. Going out with Wade usually ended badly and by badly that meant one hell of a bar fight and a night in jail. Not to mention a few new enemies.

What Deadpool failed to disclose was that it was a speed dating for mutants and the assholes that called themselves superheroes. “What in the fuck is speed dating anyways, Wade?” People were mingling about, a low murmur coming from the small crowd as everyone started to size each other up as they gathered liquid courage from the sympathetic bartender.

“Fuck if I know. I’m sure they’ll explain it. I’m just here to get laid,” Deadpool exclaimed loudly. Purposely very loud. Logan was certain that Wade didn’t know what an inside voice was as a few startled people gasped and stepped away from them.

“Christ, bub. You’re cockblocking us already,” he muttered after downing his fifth whiskey and gave a pointed glance at the bartender indicating that he wanted another. It wasn’t like he could get drunk but if he was going to be forced into this he might as well make it worth his while in drinks alone.

“Have you even looked around? There are some fine pieces of ass here.” Again, loudly and visibility causing the crowd to flinch, Wade gestured around him.

Logan didn’t even spare a look as he rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. Wade was just looking to troll people tonight. Not that this was different than any other night, but he’d actually planned this. “Goddamn it, Wade … are you on a job?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time that the Wolverine had gotten roped into helping Deadpool for some reason or another. Wade was random but this, there was a reason for this and Logan finally turned to face the masked mercenary with the very loud and crude mouth with a scowl on his scruffy face. “You fuck. Why are we really here?”

Wade scratched his masked head, pretending to ponder the simple question and shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking for my prince charming? Or someone who owns their own chimichanga stand. I’d even settle for tacos.”

As Logan opened his mouth to speak, a number was slapped onto his chest. Everyone had one slapped to their chests in the blink of an eye. “Fucking Maximoff,” Wade and Logan muttered in unison. The rules were explained soon after. Five minutes with each “date” before time was called and people moved to different tables. People with red numbers stayed seated while the blue ones table hopped. At least Logan wouldn’t have to make an effort, thank fuck. Bless Quicksilver after all for the red number stuck to his chest. Deadpool seemed to disappear so Logan shrugged, grabbed a bucket of beers on ice and tipped the suffering bartender before he found the table that corresponded to this number.

Twelve people. Five minutes each. He could do this. It would be over in an hour and then he could go home, drink some more and probably get off in the shower. Alone. Very much alone. “Right … and you are?” A shapely blue skinned woman gracefully sat down in the chair across from him once the timer was started. Yellow eyes looked back at him before they blinked and the nude scaly form shifted and he was looking at a mirror image of himself.

“Mystique,” Logan’s perfectly imitated voice responded back. “I can be whoever you want me to be, handsome.”

“Christ. No thanks. No offense, but that’s a mood killer right there.”

The gruff laugh he received in return, his laugh, gave way to a softer chuckle as Mystique returned to her natural form. “Are you always this honest, Mr …?”

“Logan, and yes. Nice party trick but it’s not my thing.”

Mystique wasn’t deterred as she snatched a beer from the bucket and held it out for Logan to open, which he took without flourish and easily popped the cap off before he handed it back. “What’s your party trick?” The question was soon followed by a gulp of beer and curious yellow eyes waiting for an answer.

Trying not to seem too bored as he lifted his arm to display his clenched fist, the metallic _snikt_ cut through the air as his adamantium claws extended quickly and glinted in the light, causing half of the room to turn and look at him before they returned to their own dates, chatter resuming as if nothing happened. He wasn’t the only one showing off his mutation. That was usually the first question from what he could hear and so others were obliged to show because it was easier and more believable than simply explaining.

“I mean, that’s it?” If Logan actually gave a fuck about her dismissal, he’d be offended but he didn’t.

“Nope, but maybe that’s part of the mystery. Maybe I’ll tell you in the morning after you make me breakfast.” He knew that wasn’t going to happen and could tell that Mysfit or whatever her name was, was likely going to get pissed off very soon if she spent any more time with Logan.

On cue, those yellow eyes narrowed as she let out an irritated huff and he took another swig of his beer, not phased at all by the icy stare he received and the subsequent silence. “Look darlin’ … I’m only here because that son of a bitch over there,” he said while he pointed at a very giddy looking Deadpool, if that was possible with a fucking mask on, “dragged me here and didn’t tell that this bullshit was going on. It’s nothing personal, but we both know we’re not star crossed lovers meant to find each other, okay?”

Her expression eased up just a little and shrugged. “I kind of did the same thing to my brother,” she admitted and laughed. “But he’s not being an asshole about it, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Is he blue like you and walks around naked? Wouldn’t mind tapping something like that.”

He watched Mystique’s expression go from disbelief to annoyance and then to resignation. “Nooooo. He looks, well he looks normal and not like some furry lumberjack beast that needs a fucking haircut and a shave. No one wears flannel anymore, by the way.”

“Good thing I don’t give a fuck then, eh? It’s a goddamn miracle I managed to walk upright and put on clothes to begin with, being a furry beast and all.”

Before she could respond the timer went off and Logan wiggled his fingers, a mocking farewell to shoo her off as he opened another beer and grunted. Eleven more of these fucking “dates.” Wade better have a damn good reason for forcing this hell on the Wolverine.

He’d chatted up a girl who couldn’t touch anyone because they would die, a red devil looking prick that made brimstone smell like a flower garden when he teleported to the next damn seat and several others that nearly made his eyes cross because they were fucking boring or awkward. The kid with a wicked card trick and onyx eyes had caught his attention but he was sure they’d do nothing but fight over who topped if they did actually date so Logan didn’t push it.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” the Wolverine said as a slender but muscled figure sat down in front of him. “Are you even old enough to be here, Parker?”

“Seeing that you’re bored and toooootally hate this, why don’t you leave?” Of course Wade manages to interrupt when things get interesting. Not interesting because Logan wants to date Peter Parker, he just wants to know why the kid is here in a bar and not off with his high school sweetheart.

Deadpool wasn’t subtle at all. Not when he grabbed the collar of Logan’s red flannel shirt and lifted him, forcing him to stand before he was lightly shoved away. “I’ll take it from here,” Wade sing-songed and gave the Wolverine another shove.

“Fuck you, Wade. I’m having another drink and then I’m leaving your stupid ass here. He might as well be jailbait, you dick.”

Whatever. Logan ignored anything directed at him after that as he took a seat at the bar, whiskey already poured and waiting.

“Peter Parker is the reason your friend is here, he just brought you along for fun. It seems he quite likes the boy.” The voice was soft, accented and Logan didn’t recognize it. He doubted that Deadpool would broadcast his business like that so he turned to face the man behind the voice, probably very British and proper and he wasn’t sure what to expect but it wasn’t this.

The man was fucking gorgeous and as soon as that thought crossed the Wolverine’s mind, pale and flawless cheeks pinked up. He had red lips. Who has lips that naturally red anyways, and those eyes - soft blue, bluer than some of the tropical lakes that Logan had seen in his time. He’d been prepared to tell the man to fuck off and mind his own business but that was before he looked at the man that he’d sat down next to at the bar.

“I thank you for that. I didn’t mean to intrude but if it still makes you feel any better, feel free to tell me to fuck off anyhow.”

“Telepath … haven’t come across one of those in a long time. Didn’t see you making the rounds,” Logan said with a nod to the neatly arranged tables.

“You know, I believe that you’re more than just a, what was it? A furry lumberjack beast. I must apologize for my sister.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

“It wasn’t really a question, was it? I don’t … well I’m not going to meet someone this way, am I? Did you? Meet someone that you were interested in after doing all of that?”

“Wasn’t really looking. So the blue chick is your sister? She doesn’t sound British.”

“Very long story, my friend, for another time perhaps. You’re actually very amazing, aside from the flannel and that dirty mouth of yours. You heal remarkably well and you’ve hardly aged in over a century and a half. Then there’s this,” the telepath said while the tips of his fingers brushed over the knuckles of Logan’s hand nearest to him.

The Wolverine didn’t flinch, only watching the movement of warms fingers moving over his skin before he gulped down his whiskey and laughed. “What is it with the flannel? Does it offend your sensitivities, your royal highness? Don’t you and Princess Blueberry have better things to do then worry about my choice in clothes?”

Logan leaned in, invading the young man’s personal space, their lips inches apart as he spoke. “I might have a dirty mouth but it gets the job done, Bub. Never had any complaints.” The air between them smelled of whiskey, and the young man’s tongue darted out to wet his red lips. It didn’t escape Logan’s notice even if his eyes didn’t track the movement directly.

“C-Charles. My name is Charles Xavier. Pleased to meet you.”

“So now you want to get formal? Nice.” Logan had straightened up, putting a comfortable distance between them again as he raised his empty tumbler to signal the need for another drink.

“It’s better than calling me Bub and I’d rather you know my name just in case … well, when we leave here together.”

Logan was sure he’d heard that right because his hearing was incredibly good, heightened senses and all. It didn’t stop his brows from twitching in amusement, or the thoughts that came barreling into his metal encased brain. He’d put that mouth to good use and bruise that perfect skin in all of the right places. He’d make that body yield to his and fuck Charles senseless. The prim and proper bloke next to him wouldn’t be able to walk without a limp in the morning if Logan had his way.

“Sounds very promising, I must say. My flat is only a few blocks away if you’d like to get started.” This Charles fellow sounded so nonchalant about it, like he was inviting someone over for tea and fancy little cakes. The soft chuckle next to him reminded Logan that Charles could literally read every thought that popped into his head. “I can serve you tea and little cakes after, if you wish.”

“I might break you and then Princess Blueberry would be pissed. No offense, but you’re soft.”

“But not without defenses of my own.” The room had grown silent, too silent, and Logan turned around on his barstool to see that everyone around them had seemingly frozen in place. Some people were in the middle of a conversation, others taking a sip of their drink. A few were in mid stride, weaving between tables. Even Wade was still, hands raised as he animatedly spoke to Peter Parker.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, not on purpose from what I’ve seen of your mind and I do apologize for probing,” the soft spoken telepath continued as Logan’s eyes scanned the room again. “A few love bites and a slapped arse hardly constitute anything I haven’t already done or had done to me. It’s just a night of fun, right?”

“You’re more than just a mind reader. Nice. Hold that thought.” Logan stood and walked over to where Wade was, looking like an idiot as usual even if his face was covered up. Right next to Wade’s table was a short red head. She wasn’t a mutant, but he recognized her as one of the Avengers and she had some sass to back up those fiery curls of hers. Natasha, he’d remembered. The petite assassin was in the process of walking by before Charles had frozen everyone in place. Logan would have his revenge after all, carefully dragging one of Deadpool’s upraised arms down and planting a hand firmly on Natasha’s ass. He crooked the fingers so that Wade would get a proper handful of the shapely woman and chuckled.

“She’ll probably break his hand. That’s not very nice.” The Wolverine could sense the amusement in the admonishing statement and only shrugged. “It’ll heal in a few minutes and don’t think he wouldn’t do the same thing to me if he had the chance. You ready?”

The telepath had already risen from his seat and grabbed his coat, the soft wool hanging over an arm while he shook his head. “Honestly, you’re a grown man. You’re terrible.”

“You don’t seem to mind it that much. You’re still taking me home _for a night of fun_.” Logan had left his leather jacket at the door, neatly hanging on a peg and he was already headed over to slip into it. “Let ‘em loose once we’re outside.”

Logan’s gruff laugh filled the night air as a shriek came from inside the bar. More of an annoyed yelp really, followed by a ‘goddamn it, Wade’ and then what sounded like someone being thrown into a table which just happened to break. ‘I wasn’t trying to feel you up, red! I’m here for Parker!’

“You’re such a tit,” Charles muttered from beside him and Logan looked over.

“And you’re fucking adorable,” he noted, mentally chuckling at how the telepath’s cheeks, nose and ears were already pinking up in the brisk air. He wondered why mister prim and proper would seek someone like him out but he wasn’t going to turn an opportunity to get laid if that’s what Charles Xavier truly wanted.

“Someone like you? I’m not all that prim and proper, even if I was raised to be, and you’re perfectly suitable for _that_ exact purpose. I’ll even make you a proper English breakfast in the morning,” Charles said with a perfect smile.

“Good to know I’m not going to be kicked out as soon as you’re done with me, but I don’t make it a habit of sticking around so you don’t have to worry about breakfast.” No, Logan had been greeted by many an angry husband, wife or lover of someone that had failed to tell him that they were in fact already taken. “You don’t …”

“No,” the telepath said, letting out a soft sigh while he shook his head. “I’m not seeing anyone and so you have no reason to fear being hit over the head with a baseball bat. That honestly happened?”

“More times that you can imagine. Some of us aren’t telepaths, you know. How was I supposed to know they already had someone?”

“Would it have really mattered?”

“Not really, kid … just like it doesn’t matter if you’re lying about it. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt about that, from what I’ve seen. You’re not in that line of work anymore though, are you?”

“I’m sure you already know the answer, but I try to avoid it if I can. Good money though,” he mused, trying to ignore the telepath’s insistence at taking ahold of his arm as they walked. Logan wasn’t the handholding or overly affectionate type but whatever. Charles seemed to be a sure thing and at least he wasn’t some overly giggly tramp pawing at the Wolverine.

“Not a tramp _or a prude_ ,” the man replied with a hum, only laughing at Logan’s obstinacy before he continued. “And it’s only fair that I use my gifts, as it’s my way of taking care of myself.”

Logan had been ready to comment on the lack of privacy in his own head before Charles had cut him off with that statement. It made sense, especially if you invited complete strangers back to your place for the sole intent of fucking. “Fair enough,” he agreed.

“I don’t do this often, really. My sister just thought I should get out and for once I listened. I’m quite glad that I did or else I wouldn’t have met _you_. Call it a happy accident because even in your long life, you don’t really look for this sort of thing, despite what you say or think at the moment. You’re thinking with the wrong head right now,” the telepath teased as his smile brightened. “Not that I mind that at all.”

Logan’s grunt of a reply only made Charles laugh lightly and pat the arm that he was holding onto. “I do actually find you fascinating, truly. I’m not just saying that to get into your pants, though I’d be very flattered if that line actually worked. It doesn’t usually.”

“I doubt you have trouble finding people. You’re a good lookin’ kid and you’re not wearing flannel,” The Wolverine commented a little more sourly than intended, but he was pretty sure that there were quite a few men and women that would love to date Charles, take him home to their parents and settle down for years of uneventful domesticity.

“You would think that, but … people fear certain things. Their minds are something they don’t always wish to share, and while I can choose not to pry, which most of the time I do, it’s how _I_ like to share. It’s easier than speaking and well, if you’ll let me, I’ll show you.”

The Wolverine nodded his approval and followed Charles’ lead. The bar they’d left was in a decent neighborhood and after a few blocks of walking, he knew that his new companion lived in one of the more posh parts of town.

“Not too posh. It’s not Fifth Avenue, which my sister would’ve preferred, but it’s nice enough. Oh, and I do live alone now so no worries about her stumbling in drunk. Last I knew she was going home with some relatively nice young man. Hank is his name, I believe.”

“And she had the nerve to call _me_ a beast? Maybe I wasn’t furry enough for her after all.”

That earned Logan a hard swat on the arm and he rolled his eyes as Charles continued. “You’re _mine_ for the evening, and I’d rather not talk about sisters, fur, or anything else like that. Although, I do like that wild mane of yours. Gives me something to hold onto.”

Logan snorted and didn’t even try to picture it, as Charles was doing it for them both well enough. “Is that your idea of foreplay?” He was actually impressed with all of the telepath’s abilities and had to nudge Charles to stop sharing his thoughts so he could focus on where they were going. “At least wait until we get to your place. Kinda hard to see where I’m walking when all I can see is you, um … being fucked into a wall.”

“So you don’t mind it?”

“Mind what?” Logan shot a somewhat confused glance to the telepath as Charles steered them to a building, punching in his code to get them into the lobby.

The answering tap to Charles’ temple as they entered the building sparked realization and he shrugged. “Got nothing to hide but I gotta warn you, you’re not going to like what you find. You might rethink this if you did.” It wasn’t a threat, only the truth. The Wolverine’s complicated history was filled with violence, regret, and a lot of bad choices and he tried not to involve people in it when he didn’t have to but he couldn’t really stop Charles.

“If you asked me to stop, I would.” It was the first time he’d seen the telepath seem to doubt himself, and Logan didn’t know what to think at this point but if it was a problem, he’d have already said so. He wasn’t one to hold his tongue or shy away from sharing his opinion on something, especially if it affected him directly.

“It’s kind of nice not having to try and explain myself, which doesn’t always go so well. I’m not what you’d call a people person.” The idea of Logan being personable was laughable, even to him. He didn’t hate people in general but it was just better to stay away.

A warm hand closed around Logan’s as the elevator doors opened, gently tugging him inside before he was pushed against the wall of the now moving metal box. It wasn’t a threatening gesture, hardly any force to it but the Wolverine went willingly. A single finger on his roughened lips kept him from saying anything else as he watched Charles, carefully neutral and waiting for the telepath to say something.

> _We’re both alone so let’s just have some fun tonight. I do find you incredibly attractive or you wouldn’t be here. I’m surprised that you’ve been such a gentleman so far. It’s almost insulting but … you’re not like that, what you say you are._ <

The voice in his head was just a clear as if Charles were speaking aloud, though with a slight echo but still proper and accented in the telepath’s usual soft tone. His blue eyes were still expressive, fond even, as they met Logan’s. Red lips were stretched into an almost predatory smile but they were unmoving.

In a simple movement, the finger on the Wolverine’s lips shifted away, quickly replaced by lips that were warm and soft. The kiss was simple and chaste, sweet. Logan hadn’t been kissed like that in probably decades, and _he_ hadn’t kissed anyone like that in the same amount of time.

Their arrival to Charles’ floor, top floor Logan noted, was quick and once again a warm hand wrapped around Logan’s and led him forward after the telepath had pulled away. Charles definitely wasn’t hurting for money. That much Logan knew as he looked around the hall they were walking down.

“You have half of the floor to yourself?” The Wolverine had noticed only two doors as they stopped at the one on the right, watching as Charles fished his keys out of his pocket and started to unlock the door.

“I own the entire floor, but my sister lives in the other apartment. We like being close but not too close, and I know that she’s safe here,” Charles said as he took off his coat and opened a door on the side of the entry way to hang it up in the closet before he walked over to help Logan out of his leather jacket.

Logan felt a little awkward being fussed over, letting his new companion slip his jacket from his broad shoulders to be hung up properly before Charles returned, that predatory smile plastered all over his lips again. “Now … where were we,” the telepath mused, grabbing Logan’s hand again and walking them into a living room the size of Logan’s entire apartment.

The Wolverine was no wallflower by any means, and Charles’ comments about him being surprising gentlemanly weren’t ignored, and neither was the insinuation that it bordered on insulting either. “You were just about to come here and sit on my lap, Chuck.”

Logan took a seat on the large leather couch in the center cushion, patting his thighs as he tried not to laugh at the noticeable pout forming on the telepath’s lips. > _Chuck? Honestly, James,_ < Charles admonished in silent conversation between them.

The made the Wolverine cringe a little, not having been called by his proper given name in ages. He’d been called Jimmy as well, but almost never James. “You comin’ or not, _Charles_?”

The pout on Charles’ lips had smoothed out into a smile once again as he slipped off his shoes and padded to the couch before he climbed onto Logan’s lap, straddling muscled thighs as his hands came to rest atop equally muscled shoulders. “You are quite the man, Logan. The power beneath me is nearly unstoppable, isn’t?”

“You’re about to find out, aren’t you?”


End file.
